


in the worst way

by allthefadinglights



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Formula 2 RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Shirtgate, There is an actual plot this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28985337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthefadinglights/pseuds/allthefadinglights
Summary: Callum isn’t sure why he’s never quite gotten along with Mick as well as he would’ve liked to.
Relationships: Callum Ilott/Mick Schumacher
Comments: 12
Kudos: 110





	in the worst way

**Author's Note:**

> This got severely out of hand. I just wanted something short and instead ended up with this. Oops?

Callum isn’t sure why he’s never quite gotten along with Mick as well as he would’ve liked to. Marcus never had the same problem, nor did any of the other FDA guys. He’s asked Marcus once, ages ago, why Mick got along with them just fine but seemed to have an issue with Callum. Marcus just laughed and told him it was bullshit, but Callum’s not so sure it is bullshit. Mick is more distant towards him than the rest of them, harder to approach, and it makes Callum unsure of himself. He’s never had trouble making friends and being liked, but it’s like his usual charms don’t work on Mick at all. In fact, it’s like they have the opposite effect. He’s caught Mick frowning at him more than once when he’s been teasing Dino or straight up bullying Marcus. He’s not mean, far from. It’s just his way of talking to friends. And Marcus bullies him back all the same, Dino just laughs. 

So Callum leaves him be, tries not to let it get to him. He treats Mick like a rival first, a fellow FDA member second. They have a few run-ins on track throughout the years, nothing major but enough to grind Callum’s gears when he feels like Mick just gets away with it time and time again. Sure, maybe they both should’ve checked their mirrors better and given each other more space, but he’s not so sure if Mick’d get the same treatment if he had a different last name. He says none of this out loud, not even to Marcus. It’d make him sound jealous and whiny, and Callum likes to think he’s too easy going to be jealous of anyone. Truth is, it’s a lie and he knows it. He’d like nothing more than for things to come easy to him, not have to work as hard as he’s done for years. 

They make the step up to Formula 2 in the same year. Mick’s a European Formula 3 champion, Callum just has his third place in GP3 speaking for him. Sure, he was a title contender up until late in the season. Sure, it was his rookie season in GP3. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s not champion. One teammate beat him to the title, the other stole second place away. It’s a fair loss and they’ve fought for it, so he’ll take that in stride but seeing Mick get into a top seat straight away when he’s left struggling in a team that’s not quite as good is a little infuriating. Despite the turmoil of the season, Callum’s secretly satisfied to see he’s outscored Mick at the end of the year. He might not’ve won a race, but he’s gotten two podiums and a lot of decent results compared to Mick’s one sprint race win. 

Comparing yourself to others is usually never a good idea, but it’s the only way you can see how you’re doing in a competitive sport like racing. Yeah, he can do a 1.47 around Sochi Autodrom but that time means nothing if there’s no one to compare it to. So comparing himself to his teammates, and in extension, Mick, is the only way Callum knows where he stands in terms of performance. And it might be petty to enjoy having outscored Mick but it’s the one way he can get some satisfaction out of this season. Spa puts things into perspective, puts him firmly back on the ground with both feet and tells him that results are never more important than everyone coming home safely at the end. For a time, it shuts his competitiveness down. He stops comparing himself to Mick, just drives and never thinks about the dangers of it while he’s in the car. If he does, he might pull into the pits, get out and never get back in. 

The delay to the start of the 2020 season only amps Callum up more. He doesn’t see much of the other FDA members, only on Zoom calls from time to time when he hasn’t found an excuse to get out of his Italian lessons. He’s delighted when the first weekend goes so well, and he leads the championship for a couple of rounds. Until Mick starts catching up. He loses the title to Mick, of all people, and the cherry on top is that he has to borrow Mick’s clothes for the ceremony or embarrass himself showing up in shorts and a T-shirt while everyone else looks nice. 

“Are you sure you don’t have anything I can borrow?” Callum pleads with Marcus, who just regards him with narrowed eyes.

“Why are you so desperately refusing to ask Mick?” Marcus asks. “He doesn’t bite, you know. He probably won’t even laugh at you.” Callum glares at him, rummaging through his own suitcase once more to make sure a dress shirt and jeans haven’t suddenly magically appeared in there. “Yeah, you’re not gonna find anything in there. You’ve emptied out the contents on your bed twice already, if you had anything to wear we’d have found it by now.” 

“Fuck,” Callum says, letting himself fall on the bed dramatically. Guess he’s going to have to grit his teeth and grovel at Mick’s feet. Or something like that.

Marcus kicks him in the shin. “Stop being a dramatic bitch and fucking ask him for the clothes. He’s not gonna say no, he’s too nice for that.”

“Nice,” Callum mumbles under his breath as he slams the hotel room door behind him. “Right. _Nice_.” It’s not that Mick _isn’t_ nice, it’s just that Callum fails to see how that’s relevant to the problem at hand. Also, he’s petty and annoyed because Mick beat him to the title and now he’s going to have to borrow clothes from him. “Fine. Whatever.” He knocks on the door of Mick’s room, Marcus having given him the number, and waits for the door to open.

Mick looks appropriately confused when he finds Callum standing in front of him as he opens the door. “Hi?”

“Hi. Sorry to bother you, but I wasn’t aware of the ceremony later and I didn’t bring anything.” There’s a short silence as Mick just looks at him, a frown on his face. “Marcus said you’re always prepared for everything so he figured you might have something that could fit me. Could I borrow something?” Callum explains further, shuffling his feet awkwardly when it falls silent again. 

“Uh yeah, sure,” Mick finally says, stepping aside to let Callum in. “I have one spare set I think, what do you need?”

“Dress shirt and jeans?” Mick nods and opens the wardrobe to find the requested items. It gives Callum the opportunity to look around, noticing that the room is scarily tidy for a guy his age. There’s not a single hoodie or pair of sweatpants lying around - he’s even unpacked his suitcase. What self respecting person unpacks a suitcase for a few days? Callum sure doesn’t, thinks it’s a waste of time when it’s all going to have to fit back in when they leave anyway. 

“I have a white one and a blue one,” Mick says, drawing Callum’s attention back to the wardrobe. “I think blue will look good on you.” Callum chooses to ignore that particular comment and takes the shirt from him. Mick keeps looking at him and it unnerves him.

“What?”

“Are you not going to try it on? It might not fit at all.” Callum doesn’t particularly _like_ being undressed around other people, especially not someone he doesn’t even consider a friend, but Mick’s helping him out here so he might as well just make it easy on them both. He puts the shirt on the bed, pulls his T-shirt over his head and tries to refrain from shielding himself from view while he buttons up the dress shirt. Mick was right, blue looks good on him. He sees Mick nod his approval in the reflection of the mirror.

“This is great, thank you.” Mick throws him a pair of black jeans and a belt as well. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go change into these in my own room,” Callum says then. Shirtless is one thing, but he’s not taking off his pants here. 

Mick chuckles. “Sure. I’ll see you at the ceremony then.”

“Cheers.” Callum doesn’t quite run out of the room - he has more dignity than that - but it could be classified as speed walking. 

“You look ridiculous,” Marcus says when Callum gets back to his own room. He crashed Callum’s room earlier, claiming his bed was more comfortable, and he’s showing no intention of leaving anytime soon. “The dress shirt and the shorts, not a good look.”

“Shut up,” Callum says as he disappears into the bathroom to change into the jeans Mick gave him. He has to admit, they fit him well enough and the belt helps keep them up on his skinny frame. “Does this carry your approval, oh mighty fashion lord?” he asks sarcastically as he steps back out into the room, twirling around to show Marcus his outfit. 

“Hm,” Marcus says, getting up to take a look at him. “Just missing one thing.” He undoes the top button of the shirt and tilts his head to admire his work. “Better.”

“Really, one button makes it better?”

“Draws the attention to that-“ Marcus gestures towards his chest, “and away from the fact that the shirt is too big on you. I did tell you to go to the gym more, if you’d listened to me you would’ve fit into this shirt perfectly fine.”

“Some of us don’t have a second home in the gym.”

Marcus shrugs, grinning at him. “You should get going, the ceremony starts in half an hour and you still have to get to the track.” He falls back on Callum’s bed, going back to scrolling through his phone. 

“Are you not gonna-?” Marcus squarely ignores him so Callum decides to give up. “Whatever. Don’t order room service under my name or I will kill you.” 

It’s a rush to get to the track on time but Callum just about makes it, coming to a halt behind the podium just as they call Yuki onto it. Mick’s chatting to Rene, spares him a cursory glance and a quick smile. He’ll take it to mean he looks good. The whole ceremony passes in a blur, especially considering Callum really doesn’t care much about his trophy. He’s mentally dubbed it his loser’s consolation prize. He hears himself say something about enjoying the fights with Mick and he’s not sure where it comes from, because he hasn’t, not really. The lingering feeling of never being enough and always playing second fiddle to someone else sticks. 

Somehow, he ends up walking back to the parking lot with Mick after the official pictures have all been taken. Callum knows there are photographers around, dying to get that perfect shot of the two of them so he puts on a smile and pretends he's actually spoken more than fifty words to Mick over the last few years. “If you’d have won, I would’ve been happy for you,” Mick tells him. It sounds sincere, but there’s no way he’s serious.

“They don’t have microphones,” Callum says, gesturing towards the photographers. “You don’t need to pretend.” 

Mick looks at him sideways. “I’m not pretending.” It causes an awkward silence because Callum can’t - won’t - say that it’s mutual. He’d be lying if he did, and he’s nothing if not honest. 

“We had some good fights,” he concedes eventually. They don’t say another word until they reach the parking lot. “I’ll get these washed and back to you as soon as I can.” 

Mick nods. “Whenever you have time, there’s no rush.”

Callum decides to sleep in the next day - he’s got nowhere to be and no commitments for the day, only waking up to his phone’s incessant buzzing. It’s a confirmation of Mick’s seat in Haas. Callum knew this was coming a while ago, when he was informed by Ferrari that he wouldn’t be going to F1 next year. Obviously, they’d chosen Mick over him. Suddenly, the folded blue shirt on the end of his bed is mocking him and he throws it in the bottom of his suitcase, can’t bear to look at it any longer. His consolation prize is a role as Ferrari test driver, which sounds good at first sight but it’s really just that - nothing more than a consolation prize. 

He spends winter break moping around the house, refusing to participate in any activities. His mom has finally had enough when he makes his sister cry because he doesn’t want to play MarioKart. “I don’t know what’s going on with you or why you’ve been in a foul mood since you came back, but you better get it together if you don’t want to spend the rest of the break in Italy.” 

It’s been a while since his mom has been this upset with him and it sort of shocks him out of his mood. “I lost the title, is that not enough reason to feel like crap?”

“You weren’t like this when you lost the title in 2018,” his mom counters. 

“That’s because he was actually my friend, unlike Mick,” Callum mumbles. He doesn’t wanna think about that right now. “ _He’s_ gotten everything and I’m left with nothing. That’s not fair, is it?”

“You’re jealous,” she concludes. “It’s not a good look on you, darling.” Callum wants to protest - he’s not jealous, that’s just bullshit - until he realises she’s right. It doesn’t stop it, but it does make him apologise to his sister and lose a game of MarioKart on purpose to make her smile again. “There’s nothing wrong with being jealous,” his mom says later that night, as he’s leaning into her and letting himself be held like he’s a kid again. “You just can’t let it consume you.”

* * *

The first race of the season comes around quickly. Callum’s travelling with Ferrari for most of the year, has to be present in case either of their drivers get sick and he has to step in. It means he has a lot of spare time to wander around the paddock when he doesn’t have to sit in the garage and smile for the cameras. It also means he has a lot of time to think. And, it’s infuriating, he’s mostly thinking about Mick. He’s not blind, he’s seen the scrutiny Mick has faced and he reads the comments on social media. People seem torn between hailing him as God’s gift to racing and the worst person they’ve ever seen who should change his last name. 

He’d still kill for a coveted seat in F1, but it makes him think. Maybe Mick has always been so distant towards him because he felt judged by Callum. Callum knows he can be a judgemental asshole sometimes, but he can’t remember being a judgemental asshole towards Mick specifically. He texts Marcus about it, knowing from the second he sends his text that it’s futile because Marcus is a sarcastic fucker and he’s only been able to get a serious answer out of Marcus five times in the time they’ve known each other.

_marcus do you think i’m an asshole_

_**yes** _

_…towards mick, i was gonna add_

_**sometimes. youve never really given him a chance to be ur friend tho have u**_

Callum splutters at that. Of course he can count on Marcus to be brutally honest. Fine, so maybe he hasn’t been trying that hard with Mick. But it’s not like Mick has been dying to become his friend or anything. He’s annoyed that he’s spending so much time thinking about Mick, but now that it’s taken up space in his mind, it’s like it won’t leave him alone. He catches himself following the grey dot tagged SCH around on the tracker, checks the timings after sessions for Mick’s time. 

“You’re obsessed,” Marcus tells him when Callum stops by the F2 paddock, if only to get away from his own mind for a while. 

“What?” Callum’s not sure what he is on about until Marcus points at Callum’s phone screen. Okay, maybe he was reading an article about Mick and his thoughts on his first F1 session. So what?

“Most people don’t spend hours checking up on their supposed nemesis.”

“Nemesis,” Callum scoffs. “That’s a stretch. We’re just not friends, that’s it. Nothing more to it.”

“Isn’t there? You do know it’s not Mick’s fault you didn’t get a seat, right?”

“Okay, I’m done talking about this.” 

“Face it, Callum,” Marcus yells after him when he walks away. “Nothing good ever comes of ignoring feelings.” _Feelings_. Callum huffs. Like there’s any feelings involved other than annoyance. Whatever. He closes the tab of the article and circles back around to the Ferrari hospitality. He’s got better things to do than think about Mick. 

Callum finally gets to do a free practice session only a few rounds in, in Spain. He is, understandably, excited about it - he’s finally getting a chance to show what he can do, how he works with the team and it’ll be broadcasted widely, unlike testing. The moment he’s able to step into Leclerc’s Ferrari - his for the session, with a testing number on it - is a special one. He’s tested a Ferrari before, even tested this car before in winter testing, but nothing compares to getting to drive it for a session. He helps the team collect data on the tyres, gets to set a few flying laps, and it just serves to make him realise he wants this more than anything, not even necessarily in a Ferrari but any F1 car. To do this every week. 

He won’t be, not this year. If he’s lucky, maybe next year. His thoughts get rudely interrupted as someone runs into the back of the car, spinning Callum around and leaving him to wonder what on Earth just happened. He confirms he’s fine, gets picked up by the medical car to be returned to the pits after a quick check-up. He apologises to anyone who’ll listen, but everyone assures him it wasn’t his fault. Even Leclerc tells him there was nothing he could do. God, the one free practice session he gets to do and he damages the car. Even if it wasn’t his fault, it was him behind the wheel. He gets a chance to look at the footage through a replay on the broadcast, and sees it’s Mick, outbraking himself on a fast lap and running into the back of Callum’s Ferrari. It nearly makes him see red and he wants to find Mick and demand answers, but that’s a bad idea on many accounts. 

Instead, he glares at Mick when they cross paths in the paddock and while he’s sure the media’s going to have a field day with these pictures, it does make him feel a little better that Mick looks guilty. The stewards are quick to decide the fault was entirely Mick’s and while he doesn’t get a concrete penalty, he does get a reprimand. It doesn’t make Callum’s day any better, however. He hasn’t gotten the chance yet to speak with Mick privately, some higher ups at Ferrari told him they had to work it out between them as well. They didn’t want any friction in the FDA. Callum refuses to apologise though, since the incident wasn’t his fault. 

It’s just after the end of FP2 when Mick appears in front of him. “Come with me?” Callum makes a show of complaining before getting up to follow Mick to wherever it is he’s going to kill Callum and hide his body. They halt between two big trailers outside, hidden from view from the paddock and relatively secluded. Definitely murder then. “You don’t need to be such a dick about it,” Mick says then.

“Excuse me?” _Callum_ is being the dick here? He’s not the one running into the back of other people’s cars. 

“Had fun telling the press every horrible thing you’ve ever heard about me?” Callum’s not sure why Mick is so angry with him, because he hasn’t spoken to any press other than a curt ‘I’ll have to look at the footage before I can say anything about it’. “You know, I don’t know why you’ve always hated me so much but I’m done trying to be nice to you.”

“You ran into me,” Callum says. “I was expecting an apology, not some rant on how I’ve always hated your guts, or whatever. I don’t, by the way, but this sure as hell is pressing my buttons.” Mick pushes him up against the trailer by his shoulders and Callum can see the combination of anger and guilt in his eyes. There’s something else as well, something he can’t quite place. “I don’t think beating me up will do your image any good,” Callum says quietly. 

“What, you’ll go running to Binotto and snitch on me? When I have a lot to say about you you’d rather not have them know?” Mick counters. 

“You have nothing on me,” Callum says, calling his bluff. “I don’t get why you’re so mad at me when the incident wasn’t my fault in any way.” 

Mick’s quiet for a moment, before he does something Callum wasn’t expecting at all. Mick kisses him. It’s not gentle or soft, it’s harsh and a little aggressive and Callum gives as good as he gets, kisses him back and leaves his rational thoughts for later. It gets heated and heavy, he’s got a tight grip on Mick’s shirt and the back of his neck as Mick kisses him like his life depends on it, running his hands all over Callum’s body. Callum moaning when Mick presses up against him is what shakes Mick out of it. He pulls back, panting hard, as Callum lets go of him. “This can never happen again,” he says, straightening his shirt and turning on heels, back into the paddock. 

Callum lets himself sink down to the ground with his head in his hands. What the fuck just happened? He sits there for a while, allows himself to sort through his conflicting and confusing thoughts, trying to make sense of it. Most embarrassingly, he’s half hard in his jeans and he has to wait until he’s back at the hotel to do something about it. He has just about enough dignity left not to do it in a bathroom. 

He realises Mick still hasn’t apologised on his way out of the paddock.

Callum gets in the shower the second he gets back to his room, jerking himself off furiously under the stream to the memory of Mick’s body against his. He comes hard, legs feeling like jelly, sinking down to the floor of the shower to catch his breath. Oh, he’s in deep trouble here. 

He avoids Mick the next time he sees him, which proves to be difficult when Ferrari want all of them together for pictures - they are in Italy, after all. He ends up next to Mick, of course - the universe hates him -, trying his best not to shiver when Mick’s hand ghosts over his back. Apparently he’s suddenly become very good at keeping a straight face because not even Marcus asks him if everything’s alright and Marcus can usually read him like a book. 

It does happen again. Mick drags Callum to a secluded area of the paddock, pushes him up against a trailer and kisses him breathless. Callum comes to his senses after a while, pushes Mick away. “What are we doing?” Mick just stares at him, breathing hard. “We can’t keep doing this. Imagine the headlines if someone catches us.” And Mick walks away without another word. He’s disappeared into the mass of people roaming the paddock before Callum has the idea to go after him. Fine, if Mick wants to run off instead of talking about things like adults, that’s absolutely his problem. Except, it’s also Callum’s problem because he can’t talk about it with anyone. For one, he’s terrified of being overheard and second, it’s not just his secret to tell - it’s Mick’s too. It would have consequences for both their careers. So he keeps it to himself.

At the next race, Mick doesn’t approach him in the paddock - or at all, really. Callum barely sees him all weekend, save for driving in sessions. He’s annoyed with himself that he sort of misses it, misses the feeling of Mick against him, Mick’s lips on his. It won’t happen again, he knows that. He’s scared Mick off by wanting to talk about it, and while he stands by his point that they should talk, he also wishes he hadn’t brought it up. 

Callum’s already back in his hotel after the race, watching a movie on his laptop, when there’s a knock on the door. “Marcus, fuck off,” he shouts, not even bothering to get up. He’s not in the mood to be annoyed by Marcus right now. But there’s no reply, which is odd because Marcus usually yells right back. Sighing, he gets up and opens the door. It’s Mick standing in front of him, who looks torn between stepping inside and running away. “Hi?”

“Can we talk?” Callum lets him in without a word, sits on the edge of the bed as Mick leans back against the door. Callum personally thinks there’s way too much space between them - or maybe far too little -, but they really do need to talk. “I’m sorry I just ran off the other day.”

“Oh wow, I’m getting an apology? What a momentous day.” Sometimes Callum really should stop talking but his mouth is usually faster than his rational brain. Mick glares at him. “Fine, sorry, keep going.”

“I didn’t mean to run off, I just didn’t know how I felt about you. It’s been confusing. And I couldn’t tell you about anything because I didn’t even know myself.” Yeah, Callum’s been feeling the same way. He’s spent a lot of time trying to sort through his thoughts - and he’s still not sure what the outcome is. “You’re annoying and distant, you seem very different around me than I’ve seen you around other people, like Marcus. I just can’t get a read on you most of the time and I don’t like that.” 

Well, since they’re being honest… “You seem like you think you’re better than everyone else,” Callum says, ignoring Mick’s spluttering. He didn’t protest being called annoying either. “And not just because you won the title, it started way before that. You rarely hang out with us, you get special treatment - you keep yourself at a distance like we’re all beneath you. And whether or not you actually think that, it’s the impression it gives off that keeps people away.”

Mick’s quiet, ponders Callum’s words. “I didn’t know it came across that way,” he says then, softly. “I just felt like I wouldn’t fit in anyway so I stopped trying when I figured out you didn’t like me.” 

“And I stopped trying because my usual methods of making friends just had the opposite effect on you,” Callum admits. “We’ve been a right pair of idiots, haven’t we?” It puts a smile on Mick’s face and Callum might just be a little bit in love with him. “Still doesn’t explain why you kissed me the first time, though,” he adds.

“I’ve been wondering that myself, actually. I don’t know what came over me to just kiss you when I was busy being angry at you. You kissed me back, though.”

Yeah, he did. And he finally knows why. He’s just not sure if he’s ready to admit it. Not yet, at least. “I did. It was kinda hot, to be honest.” 

“So…” Mick says slowly, approaching him like a lion sneaking up on its prey. “Maybe we should do it again sometime then.” 

“Preferably not in the paddock. I don’t fancy being caught and having to explain what’s going on. But yeah, I would like to do it again.” Mick’s in front of him now, dropping to his knees so they’re at the same height. 

“Or we can do something else,” Mick suggests innocently, eyes flicking down and then back up again.

“What did you have in mind?” Callum whispers. He knows perfectly well what Mick has in mind but he wants him to take the first step. Mick reaches out slowly, placing his hand on Callum’s thigh. He’s rubbing circles on his inner thigh with his thumb, dangerously close to his cock, which is half hard by now. God, Mick has barely even touched him and he’s already getting hard, it’s embarrassing. “Fuck,” Callum mumbles, pulling Mick’s face towards his own and kissing him. There’s no finesse to it at all, it’s just tongue and teeth, and Mick’s hand is actually on his cock now, trying to stroke him the best he can through Callum’s jeans. 

“Okay, those jeans have got to go,” Mick pants when they break apart for air. Callum doesn’t even get to take off his shirt before Mick’s pulled his jeans and boxers down, properly jerking him off now. He’s vaguely aware he’s being very loud but it’s so much better than he ever could’ve imagined in the shower. Mick kisses him again, whispering against his lips, “We have to be quiet, I don’t wanna alert the entire hotel about what we’re doing.” Callum whimpers as Mick bends down, not doing much yet except placing kisses on the head of his cock. He doesn’t tease Callum for too long, swallowing him down as Callum bites on his own hand to stop himself from shouting. All he can do is just moan quietly. 

He doesn’t last very long, tugging on Mick’s hair to warn him but Mick keeps going. Callum comes hard, gasping Mick’s name as he spills in Mick’s mouth. Mick uses his tongue to clean him up before pulling off, pushing Callum’s hair off his sweaty forehead and smiling at him. “Am I forgiven?”

Callum laughs and kisses him. “Are you kidding? Best apology I’ve ever had.” He moves up on the bed, pulls Mick with him and lets Mick settle on top of his thighs. Mick’s wearing sweatpants rather than jeans, which makes things a bit easier. He finally manages to pull his own shirt off, and then Mick’s before yanking down his sweatpants. It takes some shuffling around for Mick to get out of them, and Callum is pleased to see he’s gone commando. He kisses Mick again, wraps his hand around his cock and alternates between going slowly and jerking him hard and fast. Mick doesn’t last much longer, shout muffled by Callum’s lips as he spills over his hand. 

“I’d definitely like to do that again,” Mick says, catching his breath as Callum goes to get a wash cloth to clean up. 

“I’m in love with you,” Callum blurts out as he wipes Mick’s stomach and his own hand. He can feel Mick’s eyes on him as he keeps talking. “I thought I disliked you for the longest time, but I didn’t. I was just jealous of you and everything you have, and it feels like I’m left with nothing every time. But somewhere between fighting you for the title and the podium ceremony, I fell in love. And I didn’t even know. How dumb is that? How can you be in love and not fucking realise it?”

“Hey,” Mick says softly. “I’m in love with you too. And for what it’s worth, I didn’t realise until I kissed you so you’re ahead of me on that one.” It makes Callum smile, finally looking up to meet Mick’s eyes. “So, what do you say? Wanna do this on a regular basis?” 

“Mick Schumacher, are you asking me if I wanna be your boyfriend?” 

“Maybe,” Mick says, taking the cloth from Callum and tossing it away before pulling him back on the bed for another kiss. “We should probably go on dates though. We skipped straight to blowjobs.”

“ _You_ skipped straight to blowjobs,” Callum corrects him. “I was just a willing participant. But yes, I do wanna date you. I wanna hold hands and kiss you and watch the sunset. I also wanna hold you down and fuck you until you forget your name, but that’s not a necessary requirement.” By the way Mick’s breath hitches, it’s pretty obvious he’s definitely up for that in the future. “So what do we do now, boyfriend?”

Mick whacks him on the chest. “If you’re gonna be like that I’m revoking the boyfriend title.”

“Wow, that’s gotta be the shortest relationship in recent history,” Callum deadpans. “I’d be demoted to friend with benefits?”

Mick kisses him to shut him up, crawls back on top of him. “You’re so annoying, did you know?”

“I’ve been told,” Callum replies, pulling Mick down for another kiss as he grinds up against him. “Maybe you should make me shut up then.”

**Author's Note:**

> I will love you forever if you leave a comment <3


End file.
